


Superbowl 2015

by mishallaneously



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, DeanCas - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, Football, M/M, Office AU, Supernatural - Freeform, superbowl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-03
Updated: 2015-02-03
Packaged: 2018-03-10 07:28:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3282053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mishallaneously/pseuds/mishallaneously
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A football rivalry between Dean Winchester and his coworker/neighbor Castiel Novak gets taken to new levels during the 2015 Super Bowl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pregame

The Superbowl is just days away and the city is thrumming with activity. The excitement is palpable, from every jersey donned by man, woman, child, and dog, to the flags and banners hung up at every restaurant and light post. Even Dean’s usually dull office can’t help but get in the spirit.

Usually his cubicle was the only one with any spirit, but now, everyone has at least a Seahawks flag pinned on their wall. People all around him are wearing the trademark blue and green hats, shirts, and one guy even shaved the logo into his hair. It’s a testament to his love for his team and his city that he hasn’t chewed out his coworkers for being bandwagon fans (but really, where was this spirit during the regular season?).

It’s in this spirited atmosphere Dean finds himself the Friday before Super Bowl Sunday. He doesn’t even know why they were required to come in today, no work is getting done. Ellen had brought in blue and green cupcakes which people are currently munching on rather than reviewing their paperwork or making sales calls. Every now and then someone in the depths of the annex calls out a hearty, “SEA!” and the rest of the office answers with the customary, “HAWKS!” And Benny Lafitte is perched on the corner of his desk, talking his ear off about prop bets, over unders, and spreads. Dean shells out a couple of bucks for the box pool after making his predictions.

“Dude, I’m going to clean you out,” Dean laughs. “You’re giving the Hawks much too big of a lead.”

“What can I say, brother? I got faith in my boys.” Benny patted his jersey fondly. 

From the other side of the office someone shouts “SEA” and Dean tips his head back and yells as loudly as he can, “HAWKS!”

“For the love of all that is holy, Winchester, can you shut up?” Groans the person in the cubicle across from him. Dean smirks, seems like Castiel has finally cracked. “I deal with your noise during your, shall we say, ‘late night activities’ enough as it is. I expected working with you would be a reprieve from the torture that is living next to you.”

“Aw, c’mon Cas, you love being my neighbor. That’s why you got a job where you can be my cubicle neighbor, too.” Dean walks over to the wall the two of them share, eager to see Castiel’s reaction. Benny shakes his head in warning before he makes his way back to his desk, not wanting to get involved. Everyone all week had gotten into the spirit, even their curmudgeonly grandpa of a boss, Rufus Turner. Everyone had donned their blue and green and shown their Seattle pride. Everyone except for Castiel who had rolled his eyes at his coworkers’ enthusiasm and remained in his normal business casual attire.

“Listen, man,” Dean says as he draws his chin over the dividing wall, “just ‘cause you don’t know shit about football doesn’t mean you gotta be a scrooge about the whole thi-” Dean’s words die in his mouth. Castiel’s cubicle does not look like Castiel’s normal cubicle.

“Something wrong, Dean?” Castiel quirks a cocky grin. Dean gapes. His cubicle is draped in team flags and team colors. He’s even wearing a team jersey.

“You’re a fucking Patriots fan?!” His cubicle is draped in the wrong team flags, the wrong team colors and he’s wearing the wrong team jersey.

“I should’ve known you Seattle fans would have such uncouth language.” Cas has an evil, knowing glint in his eyes. Oh, that bastard was planning this.

“You’re in the wrong town for this bullshit, Novak.” Dean stalks out of his cubicle into Cas’ so he can face off with him like a man.

“Shouldn’t you know that I’m from Boston by now? We’ve lived next to each other for three years, Dean.” Dean shrugs helplessly. So maybe they’ve lived near each other a while and worked next to each other for some time now too. But they’ve only ever hung out a few times, and it was really casual. Something about Cas made Dean nervous, like he didn’t want to fuck things up. He doesn’t often admit it to himself, but he thinks it might have to do with Cas’ sharp, dry wit that Dean’s pretty sure he couldn’t keep up with and maybe (definitely) the sharp blue of his eyes and his dark tousled hair. Dean stamps down on those thoughts, especially after noticing the dark navy of his trashy Patriot’s jersey brings out the color of Cas’ eyes even more.

“Whatever. You’re gonna be sorry you ever showed up in that filth once we crush you on Sunday, Novak.” Dean growls petulantly. “I hope you like seeing pretty boy Brady cry.”

“He is a rather attractive crier.” Cas muses. “Though I prefer the way his ass looks in his uniform.”

Dean chokes on his spit a little. Did Cas just…? Cas like guys? Dean shakes his head, no. He can’t pick and choose what he wants to hear. Cas may have mentioned liking guys but in association with Tom fucking Brady.

“Save a bit of that choking for when you’re choking on your words after we destroy you like we’ve decimated three other teams in past Super Bowls. Two of them consecutive.” Castiel smirks and Dean hates that he’s so attractive to a Patriot’s fan.

“You know what, Novak?” Dean begins.

“Please, enlighten me, Winchester.” Cas bats his eyes and smiles, waiting for Dean to continue. Dean rolls his eyes and continues. Gotta focus on the whole football rivalry, not how attractive said rival is.

“Let’s make it interesting. Loser buys winner dinner.” Dean bites his lip slightly, Cas could very well shut him down right now.

“Are we leaving it only at dinner? Cause I’d be willing to accept more payment when you lose.” Cas raises his eyebrow. Dean hesitates. What did he just imply? Dean nods slowly, his mind working a bit slower than his body.

“We’ll see what you think when you’re the one paying.” Dean winks, seeming more confident than he feels.

“You’re on, Winchester.”

“Looking forward to it, Novak.”


	2. The Game

Dean makes nachos for the Super Bowl party he’s hosting. Sam brings salad and Dean almost dumps it in the trash for desecrating his home. Bobby provides the beer and burgers. Others stop by and bring their own food until the couch and the table are both full. Dean thoroughly stuffs himself before the game even starts. He ignores Sam’s judgmental looks after he takes his third Seahawks cupcake and third beer respectively.

The game starts and Dean is amped. He sits on the edge of his seat as the Hawks kick off and the Patriots receive. He’s loud, but so is everyone else on the couch. They’re all born and raised Seahawks fans and they’re not being shy about it. These are his people, Dean thinks happily and if someone asked him what his favorite holiday was right at this moment, he would probably say Super Bowl Sunday.

Dean’s not going to lie, he’s nervous. The Pats are good. Like, scary good. And they have possession for a good chunk of the first quarter. But when the Hawks intercept a pass, Dean can’t help himself. He whips out his phone and texts Cas.

_**Dean Winchester** : How does that interception feel?!?_

He stares at his phone for a good minute after he sends the message, but nothing happens. He leaves during the commercials to use the bathroom and when he comes back his phone is glowing with a new message notification.

_**Castiel Novak** : Not as bad as it feels to have Russell Wilson as a sorry excuse for a quarterback. He simply cannot stack up against Tom._

Dean laughs. Cas is weird and refers to his QB by first name, but he certainly has a knack for smack talk.

_**Dean Winchester** : Dude, Brady just threw it to MY team. How can you say that?_

_**Castiel Novak** : Irrelevant. Nothing came of that. And the end of the quarter stats show that the Patriots are decimating your Seabirds_.

Dean scoffs, of course he would stoop to making fun of the mascot. Cas is right, though and Dean will be damned if he has to pay for dinner or… whatever else Cas had had in mind when they made their deal. Dean set out to type his reply but an incoming message from Cas made him pause.

_**Castiel Novak** : I see you’re typing but I must ask that you stop. I want to watch this [Budweiser puppy advertisement](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xAsjRRMMg_Q) uninterrupted._

Dean can’t hold in his shocked laughter. He doesn’t know why he’s surprised, really. The commercial is just starting when Dean looks up from his phone and he vaguely remembers the same thing from last year.

_**Dean Winchester** : Didn’t they play this same commercial [last year](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uQB7QRyF4p4)?_

Dean has barely lifted his eyes from the phone when Cas’ responding text comes through.

_**Castiel Novak** : What did I say about shutting up? And, if you must know, it’s the follow up to the one last year. Watch it, it’s very beautiful._

Dean shakes his head in disbelief, of course the big bad Patriot’s fan would get sappy over a puppy and a horse.

“Hey, Dean, isn’t this the commercial that made you misty eyed last year?” Sam calls from the other side of the room, mouth full of turkey burger.

“Dude, I think you’re confusing me with yourself.” Dean’s cheeks are hot with embarrassment. Okay, so maybe the puppy and the horse tug on his heartstrings a bit, too. Dean texts Cas once the commercial is over.

_**Dean Winchester** : I liked last year’s better._

_**Castiel Novak** : I found them both equally moving :)_

Dean stares at his phone, puzzled. He doesn’t have a response for that.

The second quarter starts and Dean is too invested in the game, which is too evenly matched for words, to text any jibes or taunts to Cas. He doesn’t even realizing he’s biting his lip until his phone buzzes and he bites down a bit harder in surprise. Nursing his sore lip, he begrudgingly checks his phone.

_**Castiel Novak** : 10 yards to go. :))_

Dean groans. The Pats are on the 10 yard line, Brady’s passing game has been on point these last few plays and Dean is sweating. The entirety of Dean’s party is tense as the players line up on the line of scrimmage.

“C’mon, hold ‘em boys.” Dean mutters under his breath.

“Dean, they have four downs to score and they’re on the 10, I think you gotta cut your losses at some point,” Sam says matter-of-factly.

“Shut it, Sam.” The play starts and the Pats score. Dean shouts angrily at the screen. But it’s nothing compared to what he can hear of the celebrations from the apartment next door. Goddamn these thin walls. He’s pretty sure he can distinguish Cas’ rough voice whooping and hollering. He probably looks great right now, maybe he’s even smiling genuinely. Dean’s known Cas for a long time and has only seen the guy smile big and uninhibited like, twice.

_**Castiel Novak** : How’d you like that touch down, Dean?_

_**Dean Winchester** : We’re just warming up, bite me, Cas._

_**Castiel Novak** : Maybe later, Dean._

Dean feels a bit too warm under his collar and grabs his fourth beer of the evening to cool off and to settle his nerves. From the game. He’s nervous about the game. Though he doesn’t need to be much longer when the Hawks score with under three minutes left in the quarter.

He and Sam hug it out. He can hear the sound of celebratory fireworks being fired off the Space Needle. Everything’s all tied up. Dean finishes beer number five and even number six in sheer celebration.

Their excitement fizzles out shortly thereafter when the Patriots pull ahead with another touchdown. Dean crushes his empty beer can out of frustration. The answering sound of Castiel and his respective party’s celebrations serves to make Dean more bitter.

_**Castiel Novak** : Your apartment sounds awfully quiet, now. :(_

Oh, that fucking asshole and his condescending emoticons. Dean, in his slightly buzzed haze, takes a picture of himself flipping off the camera, his expression stony. Right as he’s about to send it, the Seahawks start an impressive drive up the field. There’s only 30 seconds left in the quarter but they score with 2 left on the clock. Dean’s mouth hangs open in shock. Then, after everyone realizes what’s happened, the room erupts in cheers. Dean quickly takes another picture, this time him flipping off the camera while celebrating. He sends it to Cas immediately.

_**Dean Winchester** : [image] TELL ME HOW MY ASS TASTES NOVAK_

Castiel sends back a picture of his own. His hair is crazy, askew as if he’s been fisting it in stressful moments and happy moments. He’s shrugging his shoulder slightly and the corner of his mouth is lifted a bit.

_**Castiel Novak** : [image] I’ll have to get back to you on that if you somehow manage a win, but as of right now it seems we are still tied._

Oh, so this is how it’s gonna be? Dean snaps a picture of him making a kissy face.

_**Dean Winchester** : Can’t wait for you to kiss my ass [image]_

_**Castiel Novak** : Tasting and kissing are two different things, Dean, you’ll have to specify where exactly you require my lips. Unless, of course, I win. [image]_

The picture attached makes Dean do a double take. And he even saves the picture, too. For, um, the memories, not because… well. Cas is raising one eyebrow and his lips are pursed in an almost seductive manner. His hair looks like he just had a nice romp in the sheets and his cheeks are flushed from all the excitement. Dean’s imagination runs away with him and he blames it on all the beer (number 8 now because fuck halftime and Katy Perry’s music). But god, Cas looks like he’d tear into Dean in a heartbeat and Dean has to excuse himself to the bathroom for a moment to regain his composure. This is about football. Only football. If he wins the bet, he’ll just make Cas do something humiliating like drape himself in the 12th Man flag and talk about how much Tom Brady sucks. Right? Yeah, of course.

He slumps back on the couch once he’s calmed down a bit and has gotten another beer. Sam and his girlfriend, Jess, are laughing with each other, singing along with Katy Perry as she croons “I Kissed a Girl.” Dean rolls his eyes fondly and politely looks away when Sam plants a wet one on her. Something in his chest feels tight and he kinda wishes that Castiel was in his apartment right now instead of next door.

_**Dean Winchester** : You got a pretty girl with cherry chapstick over there to kiss along to this trashy music?_

He can’t believe he sent that, and hopefully Castiel reads it in a joking manner. Cause that’s how Dean intended it. So they had something to talk about during halftime.

_**Castiel Novak** : No, I’m afraid it’s just my brothers and me over here. Plus, I fear my boyfriend might mind it ;-)_

Dean’s heart sinks. Oh. He tosses his phone aside and grumpily watches the rest of halftime. He nurses another beer to occupy his now empty hands.

Eventually, halftime ends and the senseless slew of advertisements fill the apartment. Dean hears the feeble buzzing of his phone and can’t ignore it any longer. He has three new messages from Cas.

_**Castiel Novak** : If I had a boyfriend, that is._

_**Castiel Novak** : I would probably mind it too, I suppose. Cherry chapstick tastes best on male lips ;-)_

_**Castiel Novak** : Hopefully your boyfriend won’t mind if you indulge, though._

The weight he didn’t know was on his chest lifts immediately and Dean breathes easier. He stubbornly ignores the fact that ugly green claws of jealousy had been raking and kneading his insides. He’s not into Cas. However, he definitely owes him a response. His fingers fly across the keyboard on their own volition and Dean doesn’t hesitate before pressing send.

_**Dean Winchester** : Nah, no chicks here. Might have to invest in some cherry chapstick now._

Okay, so maybe he’s a little bit into Cas.

_**Castiel Novak** : No more distractions, Winchester. Third Quarter’s starting._

Dean’s not gonna lie, he’s a little hurt at the blatant brush off, but Cas is right, there’s a football game to watch. Maybe he misread the signals?

_**Castiel Novak** : :*_

Dean smiles, relieved and feeling a bit fuzzy on the inside. Thank god he’s watching a football game right now or he might have to turn in his man card once and for all.

_**Dean Winchester** : Quit, fraternizing with the enemy and pay attention to the game, Novak._

He’s just sent the text when he’s startled by his friends and brother jumping to their feet in excitement. He’d been so caught up in texting Cas he had missed the Seahawks scoring a field goal. Christ, he thinks while running a hand through his hair, he’s in deep.

He pays close attention while the Patriots have possession, his eyes glued to the screen. Brady makes a toss and the Hawks intercept. Dean goes wild. This is it! This is the drive that will vault them into a secure lead and (fingers crossed) a consecutive Super Bowl win. When the Hawks capitalize on the interception and score, Dean can’t contain his excitement.

_**Dean Winchester** : GONNA GET DRUNK ON BRADY’S TEARS TONIGHT GO HAWKS_

He gets an idea right after sending the text and grabs a box of Kleenex before running out into the hall and pounding on Cas’ door. Cas opens the door, he looks annoyed. Dean winks at him and then thrusts the box of tissues into his hands.

“Here you go, Cas. Thought you might need to stock up for the impending loss.” Dean grins widely while Cas looks down at the box in his hands, considering it thoughtfully.

“How very kind of you, Dean.” Cas says dryly, meeting Dean’s eyes. There’s an evil glint in there and Dean feels a shiver run down his spine. Before he even knows what’s happening, Cas has grabbed Dean by the neck of his jersey and is dragging him into his apartment. He throws him on the couch straddles his waist, pushing Dean’s chest down with one hand.

Dean’s heart is beating wildly and he’s really not sure how this happened. The box of tissues have been tossed carelessly on the floor and the sound of the game plays weakly in the background.

“You come into my home, wearing that jersey, talking trash to me? And you expect me to just take it? Oh no, Dean Winchester, your smart mouth is going to cost you.” Cas leans down toward Dean’s mouth, his hand moving to grasp Dean’s jaw with a bruising grip. Dean licks his lips helplessly, unable to move up and capture Castiel’s mouth with his own. Cas moves his head lower, an inch above Dean’s mouth and stops. Dean can’t help the whine that escapes from deep within his throat.

“Cas, please.” Dean breathes in desperation.

“The game isn’t over, Dean.” Cas whispers huskily, his breath ghosting across Dean’s lips. “I’ll see you when you’ve lost the bet.” He climbs gracefully off of Dean and adjusts his jersey. He takes a deep calming breath and turns toward Dean as if nothing had happened.

“Cas, man, you can’t just do that.” Dean sits up, his body still a little shaky and tries to will away the lingering arousal he feels. Cas smiles broadly and Dean’s stomach twists, an entirely different reaction that the one he’s feeling a bit lower on his body.

For the first time in what seems like ages, Dean looks at the tv. It’s the fourth quarter and the Patriots are almost caught up. How much did he miss?! It’s 24-21 and there’s a decent chunk of time left in the quarter but the Patriots have the ball and are moving formidably up the field at an alarming rate.

“Are you fucking with me right now? Is that really the score?” Cas’ brow furrows and then, as if he just remembered there was a game going on, turns toward the tv.

“Oh, well that’s a pleasant surprise.”

“You fucking asshole, oh my god.” Dean needs to get back to his own apartment and watch with actual Seahawks fans. “Where’s the rest of your party anyway?”

Cas shrugs. “They had to leave. They’re not that big of fans anyway.” Dean knows this next decision is going to fuel Sam’s teasing for weeks, but he kinda actually wants to spend time with Cas. Plus, no one should have to watch the Super Bowl alone.

“Well, come with me next door.” Dean grabs Cas’ hand without asking and starts to lead him out the door. Cas pauses.

“With a bunch of Seahawks fans? I’m not sure that’s the wisest idea, Dean.”

“Dude, it’s just football, and we’re still winning. They’re not complete assholes, come on.” Dean drags him out the door and into his own apartment. No one even looks up when they walk in, their eyes glued to the screen, looks of intense concentration on their faces. Sam looks up and give Cas a small wave.

“What happened, what’d I miss?” Dean’s stomach sinks when Sam points to the screen. The Hawks are losing. 28-24. How did that happen? “What the fuck.”

Dean sinks onto the couch and drags Cas, who has a smug little smile on his face, down next to him.

“We can do it, we came back from a bigger loss in less time before. Let’s go boys.” Dean claps loudly and all the Hawks fans join in, they gotta have faith.

“Told you not to get cocky, Winchester.” Cas whispers in Dean’s ear. Dean give him a light shove and Cas laughs softly.

The Seahawks have possession. There’s less than two minutes left, but Dean knows that’s more than enough time to come back. Wilson fires off a huge throw and it’s caught. Dean’s on his feet, he’s screaming for them to keep going. They’re so close, victory is right there, he can taste it. His fellow fans are with him, standing up and clapping their hands, egging their boys on. Cas is on his feet too, but he’s quiet, pensive. Dean can see he’s worrying his bottom lip a little. Cas knows this victory isn’t his yet, he knows there’s still a shot. A really damn good shot.

Before he knows it, the Hawks are on the one yard line. They have three downs left and if they just hand it off to Lynch then he can run it and they’ll be home free. Dean is sweating, he’s tense as the ball is thrown. It’s a perfect spiral heading right into… A Patriots player’s hands. It was intercepted.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Dean shouts at the tv. “Is this a joke?” That’s it. That’s the game. He sinks back down to the couch and clutches his head in his hands. He barely even registers the fact that the players on the field get into a brawl, it’s just embarrassing and he can’t take it. Losing is never easy, but this, this is humiliating.

A buzz in his pocket draws his head up. He fishes out his phone to see a text from Castiel.

_**Castiel Novak** : :)_

“You fucking asshole,” Dean bites back. Cas is grinning ear to ear and even though he tries, Dean can’t find it in himself to hate him. They won fair and square. And now Dean will carry-out his end of the bet fair and square.

The rest of the partygoers file out slowly, heads down and an air of disappointment hanging thick around them. Sam and Jess offer to help clean up, but Dean shoos them away. As soon as everyone is gone, Cas makes his way to Dean and pulls him into a deep kiss. Cas’ lips are soft and full and there’s a hint of cherry chapstick. Dean moans as Cas pushes him against the wall and holds him there by pressing his hips into Dean’s.

Cas draws back and Dean moans at the loss. Castiel smiles, his hair is wilder than it was before and his lips are redder. Dean thinks the sight might just make up for the outcome of the game. “Take that off,” Cas says, looking at Dean’s jersey. Dean hurries to comply, excited for some skin on skin action as Cas take his jersey off too. “Don’t look to excited, Winchester.”

Dean looks up from drinking in Castiel’s tanned, leanly muscled runner’s body, “What?”

“I want you wearing this.” Cas thrusts his Tom Brady jersey at Dean who begrudgingly pulls it over his head. He feels dirty already. “No pouting. You made a wager, you deal with the consequences.”

“But, Cas-” Cas cuts off his whining with a short press of his lips to the bolt of Dean’s jaw. Dean goes still as Cas licks and sucks at that spot. He moves his lips along Dean’s jawline licking and tasting the whole way. He finally moves up to Dean’s lips and presses small, gentle kisses against them.

“Do you know how infuriating you were this whole week?” Cas says in between kisses. Dean nods dazedly. “Oh, I don’t think you do.” Cas returns to kissing, but this time with more gusto. He grasps the back of Dean’s head and pulls him into a deep kiss, his tongue pushing past Dean’s lips. Dean holds back a surprised noise and manages to return the kiss eagerly. They break apart after awhile, both panting.

“I believe dinner was a part of the deal? And whatever I wanted?” Cas says a little breathlessly. Dean gapes. This guy was driving his crazy.

“You’re going to make me go out in public, in  _Seattle_ , right  _now_?” It was one thing wearing a Brady jersey in the privacy of your own home, but showcasing that shit hours after the Seahawks just lost to those assholes in Seattle? He was going to get mugged.

“Relax, we’ll just pick something up. ‘The whatever I want’ part of the bet would probably get us arrested for public indecency.” How could Cas say that with such nonchalance? Dean’s heart was beating so hard. “But you’ll be wearing that jersey the whole time and nothing else.” Dean sucks in a sharp breath and thinks that maybe the Seahawks losing isn’t so bad after all. 


End file.
